


My Favorite Student

by Professional_Creeper



Series: The Physics Teacher [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Dubious Consent, F/M, Manipulation, Possessive Behavior, Power Dynamics, Rape Fantasy, Slut Shaming, Smut, Spanking, Stalking, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 22:06:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4581861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Professional_Creeper/pseuds/Professional_Creeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Foster liked to fantasize about his student Emma. When he caught her wandering the halls after school, he followed her, dreaming about all the things he would like to do to her... (Alternate POV to Extra Credit in Physics)</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Favorite Student

**Author's Note:**

> Foster is shamelessly based on Brad Dourif in Nightwatch and Senseless.

Why was he following her around the school, haunting her steps in the dark?

Because he _could._

It felt good to know that-- how easily he could get away with it; how simple to explain the behavior away. He was free to watch her as he pleased, as her alluring backside paced away from him with ever-quickening steps. It felt like a hunt. He smelled blood on the air.

He could see from the tense set of her shoulders and the way she kept glancing behind that she knew, or suspected he was there, and suspected his intentions. Rightly so.

He wanted to rape her.

Not really, of course. Not _truly_ rape her. It was a simple fantasy that occupied the dark recesses of his imagination, and amused him over long teaching shifts. The lusty imaginings of a lonely old man. His wife had left him long ago, and the daily temptation of young students hitting their sexual peak, hiking up their pleated skirts to show off this fact, provided ample fodder for arousal. One particular student had caught his eye of late. She used to stare at him with stark adoration and longing. He wished to capture that gaze, and make it his, eternally. To consummate it.

He would follow her until he caught her at some delinquent activity-- for what other reason must she be here so late-- and blackmail her into fucking him. She would resist at first, but soon her cries of resistance would melt into ones of ecstasy. He would show her that world of carnal pleasure… he would be her teacher. Her master. He would make her his slave: take her virginity, and innocence, and own her mind, body, and soul.

It was just a fantasy. In reality, he would wander about until he had his fill of dark dreaming, or she left the building. Then he would gather his things and sulk home. Another night in an empty, too-big house, books his only company. He might even let up on her in class the next day, to aid the passing of this affair into memory.

It was all a fantasy, until his prey wheeled around to confront him.

“Doctor Foster, what are you doing around the school so late?” she chirped in a friendly way. Reality screamed back into sharp focus and left him staggering back, at a loss for words. She must have known exactly what he was doing, the little brat. _She thinks she's got me._

He quickly retorted, in his most authoritative and cold teacher-voice, “I have every right to be here. You on the other hand, do not. Classes are over, why haven't you gone home? I can only assume delinquent behavior. I was hoping to catch you in the act, but I'll have to send you home now instead.” He smiled as her face dropped, her self-assurance crumbling into near tears. She was so sensitive, this one. So easy to break. God, how he would like to break her.

Then, she did something unexpected. Her voice trembled and wavered, still barely holding back a sob, but the words that came out did not match her nerve-wracked tone. “Are you _sure_ you want me to go home?” she challenged, wiping back a tear to meet his eyes. Her confidence grew as his wavered.

“Excuse me?” was the only reply he could make. He did not want her to go home. He wanted to take her, screaming, right here on the floor. She couldn't see through him, could she?

“I thought you were following me so you could trap me in some dark corner where nobody would see us...”

And there it was. Completely and utterly called out, seen through, exposed. How could she so easily cut through to his darkest, most private fantasies? Was he so transparent as that? And now what happened? She went to the school board with this complaint? Would it hold up? There was no evidence-- he had never acted upon anything… but all she had to do now was claim that he did, and he was out of a job, a permanent black mark on his record that would make him unhirable anywhere else… a child predator, though she was hardly a child at 18, with supple breasts and rounded curves. He might end up in jail, just on her testimony that he had stalked her. Who would doubt it if she claimed he groped her, too? He should have remained hidden in the shadows. He should have watched her from further away. He should have stayed in his classroom, and let his only sign of frustration be hard chalk strokes on the blackboard.

He found himself backpedaling, until she said another entirely unexpected thing.

“Do you _want_ to go somewhere nobody will see?”

Did she mean? Was she propositioning him, or just looking for confirmation of his guilt? Suddenly, she had closed the short distance between them, and pressed her tender young lips against his. This couldn't be real. She tasted like strawberry lip balm, and smelled like sunlight. Why would she kiss a dusty old science teacher. At 42, he was more than twice her age. There were younger, handsomer teachers who sometimes became the focus of schoolgirl fantasies, but not him. His lab coat was constantly covered in chalk dust. He graded harshly. He hated dealing with students, and they all sensed it. He was not a likeable person. And yet he found himself melting into her lips, as they searched his with passion and inexperience.

This was real. He would have her. Yet this was not the place. As intoxicating as the idea was of pushing her against a wall and taking her then and there, hearing her screams echo through the empty halls, that was certainly a one way ticket to jail.

“Follow me to the lab.” he ordered.

****  
  
The lab, his classroom. No one ever came here after school. No student was brave enough to seek his advice if they didn't have to. Even his fellow teachers knew to leave him well enough alone. They could have privacy in here. Yet one door was not enough to ease his cautious mind. The supply closet had no windows, and would do nicely.

She was trembling all over, and her breath hitched in her throat. Her heart, he expected, must have been racing at a million miles a minute. _Good. She's never done this before._ Neither had he, for that matter. Not with a student. Not with anyone in far too long, and certainly never in a closet. He found himself grinning nervously like a schoolboy, though when he turned to face her, he wore a practiced veneer of indifference. She knew nothing of his shortcomings, or weaknesses. He was the teacher. He was her master. She was shaking, but she would not back out after coming this far. He would make sure she knew just what he offered her.

He pushed her roughly onto a table, so that her legs sprawled helplessly over the edge. _Perfect._ He towered over her shuddering, uncertain form, noticing eagerly how the fabric of her blouse bunched around her breasts. How, from this angle above her, he could see down her bra to the milky white prizes barely contained within. He licked his lips hungrily. Then, she reached up and stroked his graying hair. Her tender, innocent affection was too much. Didn't she see he was a predator, taking advantage of her naivety, and her crush on him? He closed his eyes to blot out the pain, and found her lips suddenly against his again, comforting. Encouraging. Enticing. His tongue flicked against the parting of her lips, and she opened her mouth against him, inviting him in. But these were not the lips he was most interested in, now. This was not where he would show her true pleasure.

Slowly, he lowered himself between her legs, hands feeling higher under her skirt, as he sank lower. His fingertips found her panties, white, with lace trim. As he slid them down her legs he noted how simple they were, yet seductive at the same time, much like his girl.

“What are you doing?” she cried out, voice edged with the nervousness of virginity.

“Quiet.” he ordered, and like a good girl, she obeyed.

And then the fantasy was real. He tasted the citrus sweetness of her core, and flicked his tongue over the most sensitive area at the top of her opening. He took control of her body like a puppet master, pleasuring her, feeling himself grow hard as she twitched and sighed beneath him. Every flick of his tongue caused a new response from her-- a shudder, a gasp, a moan. She was his puppet, and her every spasm was his doing. Her pleasure was his gift to her, and his assertion of control. She would come. She would be _his_. He felt her contracting under his mouth, crying out in orgasm. Her sweet juices exploded over his tongue. He sucked them in, relentlessly keeping with her, teasing and caressing through wave after of ecstasy, until she could take no more.

Now it was his turn. Now he would take her, and she would be his. Fully and completely his.

She looked a little frightened, like a cornered deer as exposed himself to her. He would have her. His body ached for her. His little innocent lamb. He pinned her arms so she knew there was no escape. He gauged with content her complete lack of struggle. Good. She was surrendering herself to him, as she should. For once in his life, a woman would be his, and his only. He reveled in his power over her, drunk on it. His pretty little bird, his frightened deer, his innocent lamb. She adored him, he had seen it in her eyes... How could a man resist the temptation of a beautiful girl who adored him, so openly.

She cried out as he entered her. She was so tight around him, her wet walls hugging him, sheathing him. His head swam.

_That was too easy_ , he thought, suddenly out of the moment… her eyes widened, but she wasn't confused or in pain. Could it be? His sweet, innocent, good student was a little teenage tramp?

“This isn't your first time, is it?” he asked, afraid of the answer.

He watched her face fall, and his fantasy was shattered. She wasn't his. She wasn't innocent. She was just some tart who would open her legs for anyone, including a repulsive old teacher. But then her body began to shake. He could feel her clenching around him, still inside of her, as she sobbed, tears filling her eyes.

“I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do about it. I wish I could change it. I wish you could have had my first time.”

He made her cry. She sought _that much_ to please him that she would want a perverted old man to claim her first time? What was wrong with her? What was wrong with _him?_ He wasn't a virgin-- why should she be, simply because he desired it? Desired all of her. And she wanted to play into that fantasy for him. He couldn't look into that vulnerable, foolish face of hers. He flipped her, bending her over the table. He pulled off her skirt, exposing her entirely to him. Then he spanked her like the naughty girl she was.

“You're a bad girl.” he growled, and entered her again all at once, penetrating her until he couldn't go any deeper. She cried out in pain and alarm, and he thrust into her again, gripping her by the hips to pull her harder and deeper against him. She shook, and gave a ragged gasp, but would not try to get away.

She was not a virgin, but she was still so young, so unsure. She couldn't have had much experience.

“Have you done it in this position?” he demanded.

“No!” she cried out in response, fighting back tears. He knew from the discomfort she was in that she wasn't lying. She had very little experience at all, then. And already seducing a teacher double her age. _Tisk, tisk._ He smiled at her bent over form, presented for him… he could still be many firsts for her... he could still possess all of her, in his way. Do for her what her teenage bucks could not...

He thrust into her wildly, reveling in the cries, both pained and pleasured, that escaped her lips. It had been too long, far too long since he had last had a release. He was consumed by her. This girl, innocent or not, confronting him with all his pent up fantasies, offering herself up to him-- a sacrificial lamb, or a seductive harlot? Either way, she was bad news. She was a whore, for him now.

He must have said some parts of this aloud, because she suddenly began to struggle against him, but it was far too late for her to back out now. He held her down, pinning her against the table, continuing his barrage into her tender body. “You little slut.” he grumbled. “Making me do this to you. I could lose my job over this. Because of you. You're a bad, bad girl.” he slapped her buttocks in between thrusts. Instead of fighting harder against him, begging for release, she closed her eyes. A blush spread across her face, and she seemed to mouth along with him in a trance, “Yes, I'm a bad girl.”

She was bad. Bad for fucking a man who wasn't him, bad for giving herself up to him. Bad for not being his perfect virginal fantasy, bad for ever wanting to be his sick fantasy. As he felt himself getting closer, his thoughts turned from the ugly insecurities and need to dominate her, and turned to drunken, ecstatic lust for her, and her beauty. Buried inside of her, he recalled what drew him to her in the first place. She was clever, and kind, and always paid attention to his lectures when others were falling asleep. She had hair like sunshine, and a sad way of looking out windows, like she knew how much pain there was out there. Like him, she would rather bury herself in a book than face the real world. He loved her. He wanted her so completely. His hands traveled under her blouse until they found her breasts, making her sigh and gasp as he teased her nipples. “Oh Emma...” he sighed, as he thrust into her, all talk of bad girls long gone. He traced over her throat, and up her jaw. He pulled down gently on her chin, until her lips parted, and he felt her warm slippery tounge. She sucked on his fingers, tightening around his erection, until he felt warm and enveloped by her at both ends. “You're mine.” he chanted into her hair, insistent and ardent, “You're mine now.”

Finally, he spent himself inside her with a shudder. She was his. His hot semen filled her, claiming her. _God, she could get pregnant,_ he realized. The chances were low, anyway, considering his age, but at this moment, in the euphoric after glow, it seemed a final act of possession if she did. Then she would truly belong to him, forever. As if reading his thoughts, her fingers twined around his. She wasn't eager to leave him, either. Perhaps she felt back some of what he felt for her.

He held onto her as if trying to hold this moment, yet the perfect bliss slipped between his fingers like sand. This moment, out of all moments in the universe, stood eternal as Ozymandias. Yet the sinking feeling was growing stronger, even as her body hummed warm in his arms, her softness still wrapped about his wet shaft. He was coming down, and reality stung his eyes. What if someone walked in now? Their pants down, still inside her, hot semen dripping down her leg.

This could never come to light. This could never happen again.

 

He pulled out, and hastily did up his pants. He missed her already. But this could never be discovered. “Go clean yourself up and go home. Nobody finds out about this.” he ordered. Nobody could _ever_ know. Did she realize how important that was, or would she be bragging about her exploits to a friend in the lunchroom the very next day? And then, this time tomorrow, he would be behind bars facing charges for sexual exploitation. “This would ruin you, too.” he warned, “I know you're trying to get into college next year, and I would hate if anything were to ruin your chances, like a scandal. Or poor science grades.” She cared deeply about her studies. _That will keep her silent._

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she snarled like a rabid animal. _Or not._ “This would ruin my chances?Do you know what happens if anyone finds out about this? You go to jail. Do you know what happens to me? _Nothing._ I bet they'd throw a party in honor of my bravery. In fact, I'd probably get automatic A's, especially when I tell them about the environment of fear you've created for me all year long. And you know everyone in class would testify to that, too, the way you've been leering at me. Go ahead-- tell the courts I wanted it. Do you know how much bigger a creep you'll come off as? Oh, and so kind of you to leave your DNA evidence inside me. Thanks for that. Let's not get confused for one second about who has all the leverage here.”

His blood drained from every part of his body, turning him white as a sheet. He had never expected her to have such agency. She was bright. Brilliant, even, for her age. The type he knew would one day eclipse him. She was the only one in class to genuinely care about the subject, and not just to pass the god forsaken tests. But this level of confidence, the way she brushed off his ham-handed attempt to keep her quiet, it was nothing he had seen in her before. His meek lamb turned out to be a woman after all.

She was staring at him now with a look of righteous victory on her face. She had him. She had him dead to rights, and she knew it. He didn't possess her at all. If she wanted to, she could ask anything of him. If he didn't comply with her, she would send him to jail. Even if he fought it, he would lose his job over the accusation alone. She owned him, possessed _him_ entirely.

Then she laughed like a mischievous imp, and slapped his arm playfully.

“Oh, _look at your face!”_ she cried, delighted at his agony. “I'm not going to turn you in. This was great. I think we should do it again. --Only if you want to! I'm not blackmailing you or anything.” _\--_ _Ah, but she had considered that, too. Clever girl.-- “_ Nothing has to change. Just keep grading me as normal. No special favors, and no threatening me. You can keep doing all that dominant stuff during the sex, too. The spanking and calling me names-- _ooh_ that turned me on! Just don't pull any manipulative bullshit with me.”  
  
He was stunned into silence, his jaw flopping loosely as if trying and failing to make words. This whole thing… this had been a fantasy for her, too, hadn't it? All his rough words, all his wishes to make her _his…_ he had played unwittingly into her hand. He wasn't sure whether to feel a fool, or delighted to have found a willing partner.

“Seriously. Let's do this again.” she cheered, pecking him on the cheek as she made her departure. She looked so pleased with herself, even as she used a Kimwipe to clean her leg of his sticky residue. Looking fresh as new, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, she skipped away home.

This could never happen again… could it? 


End file.
